


exigent (or, four times avatar korra ran away from asami sato, and one time she didn't)

by nirav



Series: new worlds for the weary [3]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 12:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5928039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirav/pseuds/nirav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Korra learns how to walk, and how to stop running.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Home isn’t home anymore.  It could be the new house--  _ palace _ \-- or the still-fading remnants of a civil war she brought on them all, or the empty echo deep in her chest where confidence and ability and  _ movement _ had once lived; it could be the way her parents look at her or the way Naga whines quietly in the mornings, waiting for Korra to hop out of bed and take her for a run.  Whatever it is, it isn’t home.

 

The stars visible from the new house they live in are muted.  Her family’s small home was nestled in the deep snow on the outskirts of town, empty miles distancing Naga’s howls from the more finicky urbanites and their distaste for Korra’s brash firebending ways; the Chief’s house stands proudly in the center of the city and the bright lights lining the streets.  There are more stars than in Republic City but none compared to the blazing constellations Korra grew up staring at.

It’s cold on the balcony.  Her ability to handle the cold vanished somewhere between being strung up in a cave and Zaheer bending the air straight out of her lungs, but she sits silently in her wheelchair with no coat regardless, a small victory of determination over the multitude of shortcoming her body has piled on her.  The balcony is huge, her wheelchair and diminutive form barely a speck on the expanse of stone.  Once upon a time, she could have made it to the railing in a split second, even without bending; now she’s in a rickety chair with wheels, dragging around legs that refuse to work.

 

She wheels slowly towards the rail, close enough that she can see the roofs of the closest buildings beyond it.  She’d helped her parents move into the house and had challenged some of the more brash guards outside to an icepick race up the towering walls; from here, now, she’s far enough above the ground to make her mother dizzy.  

 

Korra peers over the edge, propping her chin on her arms as she stares out past the city.  The sun has long since set, but the subtle sounds of a quieting city stirs the dead air.  Small specks of people shuffle sleepily through the streets, with carts and books, and she stares down at the easy way they stand and walk and move.

 

Somewhere far away, Asami Sato is probably still in her office, bent over stacks of paperwork as she so often is.  Somewhere closer but still out of reach, Asami’s letters wait for Korra, stacked neatly in her bedroom and waiting for a response.  They’ve come like clockwork, once a week, detailing updates on Asami’s work, on her latest hobby projects, on how much she misses Korra.

 

Korra’s started a letter back every week, and crumpled and burned it every time.  Asami Sato, her best friend, with a heart of gold and an unwavering ability to pick herself up after every hit; the sporadic kisses in dark corners and promises of talking  _ tomorrow, we’ll talk about it tomorrow _ may have meant something when Korra could still stand and walk and run.  

 

“Korra, sweetie,” her mother says from behind her.  “I thought you were going to bed.”  She circles around in front of Korra, a hand on her shoulder.

 

“In a minute,” Korra says.  “I was just--nothing.”

 

“Sweetie,” her mother says again.  She kneels down into Korra’s eyeline.  “Is this about this--” She flicks a finger against the metal frame of Korra’s chair-- “Or about the letters from Asami?”

 

“What?”  Korra’s never been able to lie to her mother, and being the Avatar has never changed that.  Senna raises her eyebrows and cocks her head like she always did when Korra was young and had smuggled extra food out of the kitchen to feed a baby Naga, and Korra heaves out a sigh.  “I don’t know.”

 

“You know,” Senna says.  “When I first started dating your dad, he’d just broken up with a girl, another bender, and I was sure that he would be so bored by me, because I wasn’t a bender like they were.”

 

“That’s dumb,” Korra says indignantly, momentarily stirred from her melancholy.  “Why would you--”

 

“Think that someone who’s capable of something I’m not wouldn’t be interested in me because of the things I couldn’t do?”

 

Korra blinks at her mother, mouth gaping open.  “How did you--”

 

“Korra, sweetie, I’m your mother. I’ve seen the way you look at Asami, the way you looked at her before we came back here.”

 

“But how did you know how I felt about...this?”  She thumps a fist against her useless thigh, sinking back into the chair, and her mother covers her hands gently.

 

“Because you’ve been the Avatar your entire life.  Goodness knows how much that means to you.  And you almost lost that, and it’s going to take a long, long time to get it back.  And I can’t imagine how scary that must be.”

 

“What if I don’t, though?”

 

“Then you don’t,” Senna says gently.  “But you know what?  You might not have seen how Asami looks at you, but I have.  That won’t stop her.”

 

“Stop her from what?”

 

“From loving you,” Senna says.  Korra jerks back as far as the chair lets her, eyes wider than they have been in weeks.

 

“We’re not-- she doesn’t--”

 

“She does, and you do.  Trust me, sweetie, I know.  It doesn’t mean you have to do anything about it now, but it’s still true.”

 

“I’m not-- me anymore,” Korra mumbles.  “I can’t walk or put on clothes or cook or-- do anything.”

 

“You’ll get there,” Senna says.  “But not if you catch your death of a cold out here.  Come on, let’s get you inside.”  She wheels Korra back inside without allowing her a moment to protest.  Korra slumps into her bed, maneuvering her body over expertly onto the mattress, and blinks sleepily up at her mother.

 

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” she says as her mother tucks the blankets around her.  “I don’t know who I am and it scares me.  I don’t-- I don’t know.”

 

“It’ll be okay,” Senna says, combing her fingers through Korra’s hair.  “You’ll be okay.”

 

“You promise?”

 

“I promise.”  She presses a kiss to Korra’s forehead.  “Get some sleep, sweetie.  You have to see Katara in the morning.”

 

After breakfast the next morning, Korra goes to see Katara.  After lunch, she writes a letter to Asami.

 

Months later, she turns her boat back from Republic City and the familiar skyline highlighted by Asami’s office, lit late into the night, and leaves again.


	2. Chapter 2

The day Korra returns to Republic City, she’s bowled over by Naga and then, in short order, by Bumi.  Air Temple Island hums quietly around her, easy and familiar, and she holds strong against the quiver in her legs-- not from weakness or poison or ineptitude, but the relief sucking adrenaline and fear out of her at the easy return home to the family she loved as much as her own-- until she’s alone with Pema in her new room and she collapses on the bed.  

 

“Oh, sweetie,” Pema says as she settles at Korra’s side.  She tucks an arm around Korra’s shoulders.  “Don’t cry.”

 

“Sorry,” Korra mumbles, swiping at her eyes.  “I just-- I missed everyone so much.  I’m so happy to be back.”

 

“We couldn’t be happier to have you here,” Pema says with a squeeze and a smile, and Korra smiles in return.  

 

“Do you think-- can I use the radio?  I want to let my parents know I’m here.”

 

“Of course,” Pema says.  “We’ll do that, and then we’ll find you some fresh clothes.”

 

“Oh.”  Korra plucks at the fraying edges of her green tunic.  “Yeah, I should do that.”

 

“I’m not saying you smell,” Pema deadpans. “But you in green is like Tenzin in blue.”

 

It pulls a laugh from Korra, and she hugs Pema tightly.  “Thank you.”

 

Pema doesn’t say anything, but simply takes Korra to the radio and holds her hand when she sends out a radio relay to the Southern Water Tribe’s couriers.  Afterwards, Pema sets Tenzin to baby duty and takes Korra into the city to buy new clothes.

 

“There you go,” Pema says, tugging briskly at the water tribe vest and pants.  “Now, let’s get rid of these ratty earthbender bandages--”

 

“No!” Korra says abruptly, shoving her hands behind her back.  “I-- no, they’re fine.”

 

“Are you hurt?”  Concern drives over Pema’s face, and Korra bites her lip.  

 

“No, I just--” Korra sighs and tugs at one of the bandages, letting it unwind and fall to the floor, exposing her left arm.  Scars pattern her palms and forearms, stretching up past her elbows, dark puckers where metalbenders had forced poison through her skin and darker jagged lines detailing every time she’d slammed into the ground or a cliff in her fight against Zaheer.  

 

“Oh, Korra,” Pema says softly, taking her hand.

 

“The healers weren’t focusing on-- on my hands, everyone was so worried about my legs, they just--didn’t think about it, I guess.  Katara tried once I got home, but it had been too long and--”

 

Pema drops her hand and disappears abruptly, cutting Korra off.  She reappears in a short moment and offers Korra a pair of armbands.  

 

“Oh,” Korra says.  “Thank you.”  She unwraps the other bandages and tugs the bands on, pulling them tight until they reach over her elbows and tuck neatly around her palms.  

The trip from the store to the marina is quiet and Korra’s shoulders slump at the concerned looks Pema casts her way.  It’s not until they’re almost to the boat that Korra shakes out of her silence, because Asami is on the dock next to Pema’s boat, leaning against the nearest post and fully absorbed in the stack of papers in her hands.

 

“I-- have to go,” Korra says.  “I’ll catch a ride back later, I can’t--”

 

“Korra,” Pema says slowly.  “It’s Asami, she--”

 

“I know, I just--have to go.  Please don’t tell her I’m back yet.”  She grips at Pema’s hand tightly.  “Please.”

 

“Okay,” Pema sighs.  “But if you don’t call her or the boys tonight, I will.”

 

“I promise.”  Korra hugs her tightly and then ducks behind the hull of a docked United Forces battleship, slumping down to sit on the dock and hold her head in her hands.  

 

“Pema, hi!” Asami says, and the sound of her voice floats over to where Korra hides.  

 

“Hi, Asami,” Pema says. “Are you heading to the island?”

 

“Well, I was going to deliver some paperwork to Tenzin, but if you’re headed that way I was wondering if you could take it to him?  It’s going to be a late night in the office tonight, I think.”

 

“Sure, of course,” Pema says.  “How are you?  Not working too much, are you?”

 

“Of course not,” Asami says, but exhaustion weighs at her voice, and Korra’s teeth hurt at the sound.  “But I really should be getting back.”

 

“Well, you should come by for dinner this week.  Ikki misses you.”

 

“Oh, are the kids back?  I thought Tenzin sent them on some airbender mission or another.”

 

“They got back this morning,” Pema says.  Korra’s head bolts up and her breath catches sharply in her chest.  “Meelo says he needs a break from girls after all that time with his sisters and Jinora is holing up in the temple again, goodness knows why, but Ikki would love to see you.”

 

“I’d love to,” Asami says.  “Let me know when and I’ll be sure to clear my schedule.”

 

Korra slips into the water, bending an air bubble around her head and propelling herself towards the island at a wide berth from the boat routes, far from the sound of Asami’s voice and all the explanations and apologies she owes it.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Korra has a lunch date set up with Mako and Asami, who she’d asked with slumped shoulders for Mako to invite.  She wakes long before sunrise, even though her new room faces west and stays cool and dark long into the morning, and stretches, meditates, goes for a run and a swim with Naga, races Meelo on air scooters, and then goes for another run.  Nervous energy carries her through showering and dressing and fussing with her hair-- too messy to satisfy her nerves and too short to pull back or bind into wolftails-- and all the way to the restaurant.

And then there’s Asami and everything else blurs and smears and fades away.  Asami, beautiful and wonderful and tall even sitting in an ugly waiting room chair, everything she always was but also somehow longer and harder and leaner and _more_.  There had been guilt tied to her bloodline swimming in the back of her gaze for years but now she’s rebuilt an entire city and carries its success on her shoulders, the weight forcing her spine straighter than ever.  The burden suits her, as much to counter her guilt as to cater to her need to better the world, and Korra’s body pulls tight like a panic attack but warm like home and she pauses, breathes, speaks.

 

“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

 

Reality skitters back in with Prince Wu and Mako’s irritation, and the comforting warmth that settled on Korra’s skin when she hugged Asami vanishes when Asami yells at her.  Korra fumbles over her words, looking desperately to Mako for help, but he stays slumped in his corner of the booth until Wu announces the needs of his royal bladder.  

 

It takes a kidnapping and a fight, Asami maneuvering her into position to leap from a moving car and trusting Korra to carry them all from a moving train without injury, for the anger in Asami’s eyes to dissipate.  They take Wu to Asami’s house and Korra stays quiet the whole trip back to Air Temple Island while Asami’s focus stays on the road, and then the water.  

 

Air Temple Island doesn’t yet feel like home anymore than her parents’ house did, even with the familiar ruckus of the kids running around, and she wanders to the gazebo.  Asami appears after only a few minutes, a cup of tea in her hands.

 

“I thought you might be cold out here,” she says, and Korra smiles, ignoring the twist in her stomach and the way her legs tense to run.  She swallows her uncertainty because this is  _ Asami _ , her best friend, someone she needs, and it’s all it takes for her mouth to open and fears to tumble out.

 

By the time the sun starts to set, Asami has begged off of dinner and Korra walks her to the docks.  

 

“So,” Korra says, shuffling her feet and shoving her hands into her pockets.  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?”

 

“If only,” Asami says with a quiet laugh, and Korra’s chest aches at the sound of it.  “I want to pick some pieces up from my workshop and get back to the office, I’ve got a lot to work on the next few days.”

 

“Is Mako’s whole family at your house?”

 

“It made the most sense,” Asami says with a shrug.  She leans against the railing on the dock, folding her arms over her stomach.  “They needed somewhere to stay, and the city is already strapped for space, what with the Wilds displacing a bunch of folks and the Ba Sing Se refugees showing up.”

 

“Right,” Korra mutters.

 

“Korra, no, that’s not--that’s not what I meant,” Asami says.  Her voice is soft and she lays a hand on Korra’s arm.  Her fingers settle on the material covering Korra’s forearm, thumb sliding back and forth along the crease of her elbow.  “I didn’t mean it’s your fault.”

 

“Right,” Korra says again.  She forces a smile.  “How is it having a full house, then?”

 

“Oh,” Asami says.  Her hand migrates up to Korra’s shoulder, and Korra sways under the weight, drifting towards Asami.  “I haven’t lived in there in years.  I added an apartment into the Future Industries tower, it’s easier.”

 

“Oh,” Korra echoes.  “That makes sense.”

 

“Do you want to see it?” Asami ventures.  “I can’t cook, but we can pick up some take out.”

 

“I--,” Korra says, and she drifts closer still to Asami, one of her hands coming to rest on Asami’s waist.  

 

“Korra.”  Asami’s hand tightens on her shoulder and pulls her closer.  “I missed you.”

 

Asami is close, so close that she fills Korra’s eyeline and Korra’s fingers flex at Asami’s waist.  She can bend water out of thin air even when she doesn’t have the entire bay at her disposal, but now she can’t even find a way to address the way her mouth dries up this close to Asami, and just as her chest starts to pull tight Asami tugs her the last inches forward and kisses her.

 

“Oh,” Korra mumbles into the kiss, and she sinks into Asami.  It ends too soon, Asami’s hands on her collarbones and her eyes dark, cheeks flushing as bright as her lipstick, and Korra leaps back.

 

“Korra--”

 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

 

“You didn’t,” Asami says.  She slumps back against the railing.  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Korra.”

 

“I--I’m sorry,” Korra says, tugging at her vest to straighten it.  “I should go.  Pema doesn’t like it when people are late for dinner”

 

“Korra, wait--” 

 

Korra hurries off anyways, catapulting herself from earthbent  ledges back up the hill.  The sound of rocks and dirt resettling under her feet swallows the sound of Asami’s voice.  

 

“Coward,” Korra mutters as she lands easily at the top of the hill.  She turns back just long enough to see that Asami is already in the boat and heading back to the city, and clenches her jaw until her teeth ache.


	4. Chapter 4

Future Industries Tower is dark, save for a few windows still shining into the fading daylight.  Half of the penultimate floor is lit up and Korra glides towards it, the route familiar even after so many years.  Down in the city, Mako is working with Tenzin and Jinora to develop a new bulletin for the city’s residents about the vines and their new proclivity for abducting people, but up along the skyline, everything is quiet and Korra flies easily towards Asami’s office.

 

The windows to her office have wide ledges, an adjustment Asami made years ago when Korra started using a glider, and Korra lands easily and quietly on one.  Inside, Asami is bent over her desk, forehead propped in one hand while she writes with the other, and Korra smiles before she knocks on the window.

 

Her smile disappears when the sound startles Asami into knocking the mug of tea at her elbow on the floor, and Korra lets herself in through the window with an apology springing out of her before she’s even landed inside.

 

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry-- here, I can--” With a quick twirl of her hands Korra bends the cold tea out of the carpet, swirling it up and back into the mug Asami’s just picked up.

 

“Thanks,” Asami says.  “And it’s alright.  It’s just-- been a little while since anyone knocked on the windows here.”

 

“Right,” Korra says.  “I just wanted to let you know that we got Jinora and the others back.  They’re all okay.”

 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Asami says.  “How did you do it?”

 

“They were in the spirit world.”  Korra looks over Asami’s shoulder, avoiding the careful neutrality on Asami’s face.

 

“How--”

 

“I went to see Zaheer,” Korra rushes out, and Asami’s expression breaks.

 

“You did what?  Korra, what-- why-- are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Korra says.  She finally looks directly at Asami.  “I’m okay.  Mako went with me.  Well, to the gates at least.  I went in alone.”

 

“Korra,” Asami says again, and it’s so soft that Korra’s chest aches.  

 

“I was going to ask,” Korra says after a moment.  “Lin called your office, they said you had some meeting that was really important and I didn’t want to bother you.”

 

“I-- Korra, that was a status meeting that I have every week, of course I would have rescheduled for you.”

 

Korra’s cheeks burn and she tugs at the choppy ends of her hair.  “I’m okay,” she says again.  “I promise.”

 

Asami hops up to sit on her desk.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“Not really,” Korra says.  The laugh she forces out is weak, though Asami has the decency to ignore it, and Korra busies herself with wandering around the office.  

 

“Okay.”  The office is quiet for a few moments as Korra stares at the bookshelves in front of her-- a shelf full of financial reports, a shelf full of law books, a shelf full of mechanical engineering books, a clock next to a framed newspaper article about the satomobile with a picture of Hiroshi and a ten year old Asami-- before it breaks again.

 

“Can we talk about the other day?”  Korra’s voice cracks somewhere in the middle and she spins around abruptly to face Asami as she asks, just soon enough to register the surprise that flickers through Asami’s entire body.

 

“Can I go first?” Asami says before Korra can speak.

 

“Oh.”  Korra bites down on her lower lip.  “Sure.”  She gestures to the couch, tilting her head in question, and Asami nods her permission with a small smile.  Korra sits, tense and proper, her hands clenching on her knees and her shoulders too straight.

 

“If you’re going to apologize for kissing me,” Asami says, and Korra flushes darkly.  “Then I’d rather you didn’t.  Because I kissed you, and this isn’t the first time we’ve done this, and I don’t want you to apologize for it.”  

 

She moves to sit next to Korra, folding her hands in her lap, and Korra swallows.  

 

“I also want you to know that if you need time, or to work something out, then I understand that, and I’ll support you.  But sometime soon we need to figure out what all of  _ this _ \--” She pauses long enough to cover Korra’s hands with one of hers, fingers slotting between Korra’s scarred knuckles, and Korra sucks in a quiet breath, “is, and what it means.”

 

Korra stares down at their hands, a motionless study in contrast between her skin and Asami’s.  Her whole body aches with the effort of not moving, her lungs protesting the effort it takes to breathe steadily.

 

“I don’t know if I can tonight,” she admits after a long minute.  “I just-- with today, and Zaheer, there’s a lot of...stuff.”

 

Asami is quiet until she takes a deep breath and grips tighter to Korra’s hands.  “Okay.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Asami echoes.  “Korra, we both know how I feel.  I had a lot of time to sort it all out in the last few years, but you had a lot more going on, so I understand.  I had time, and so can you.”

 

“Oh,” Korra says.

 

“Maybe don’t take three years, though?”  She says it with a smile and a gentle elbow to Korra’ ribs, and it’s enough to get a smile from her finally.

 

“Soon,” Korra says.  “I promise.”

 

“Okay,” Asami says with a smile.  

 

Korra casts a glance back over towards the bookshelf, to where Hiroshi Sato and a younger Asami smile back at her. 

 

“It’s late,” she says after a moment.  “I should let you get back to work.”

 

“Oh,” Asami says, and Korra bites her tongue at the way Asami’s shoulders slump.

 

“I just meant you said you had a lot of work, and I don’t want to keep you up and-- I also wanted to ask if you’d come have dinner at Air Temple Island tomorrow?” She tacks the question on spontaneously, an abrupt effort to take back the resigned curve in Asami’s posture.  “Maybe come over a bit earlier and we could spar some?”

 

“Oh,” Asami says again, this time with a small smile.  “Sure, of course.”

 

“Great,” Korra says with a broad smile.  It feels too wide for her face, but she ignores it.  “Well, I’ll let you get back to work.  And I’ll see you tomorrow!”  She gathers her glider, shooting one short glimpse back at the picture of Hiroshi, and then is out the window with a final goodbye and smile sent back over her shoulder for Asami.


	5. Chapter 5

The day before Varrick and Zhu Li’s wedding, Korra’s parents arrive at Air Temple Island.  Her father, big and broad and cheerful as always, spins her around in a hug; her mother waits, quiet and patient as always, and lets Korra’s larger frame lean against hers for their own hug.  Tenzin and her father disappear, talking politics and leadership already, and Korra follows more slowly with her mother.

 

“So,” Senna says after a few seconds, one eyebrow arching up.

 

“Huh?”

 

“How are things with Asami?”

 

Korra flushes, tugging at her armbands, and looks down at her boots.  “We-- I don’t know.  With what happened with her father, she hasn’t really wanted to be around people.”

 

“Even you?”

 

“Not really,” Korra says with a sigh.  “I stayed with her for a few days and she didn’t really want to get out of bed, but then she got up one morning and went full business mode, right back to work.  She said she doesn’t want to talk about him or what happened.”

 

“When was the last time you talked to her?”

 

“Yesterday morning, I stopped by her office.”

 

“Korra,” Senna says.  She tugs at Korra’s arm, pulling them both to a stop.  “Can I give you a suggestion?”

 

“Please!”  Korra says with a wild gesture.  “Please, please, I need all the help I can get.”

 

“Go see her,” Senna says.  “Now.  You don’t have to talk, but be there.  If I know Asami half as well as I think I do, then she’ll be able to avoid everything and everyone forever if you don’t take the first step.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Korra, sweetie,” her mother says, pressing her hands to Korra’s cheeks.  “I spent a lot of time with Asami, after you were hurt.  You mean a lot to her, more than you know, and she so obviously means the world to you.  You should be with her right now, even if it’s just sitting there quietly.”

 

“Okay,” Korra says after a moment.  “I’m-- gonna go.  Can you tell Dad?”

 

“Of course.  We’ll see you at the wedding.”

 

Korra hugs her, accidentally lifting her off the ground for a moment.  “Thank you,” she mumbles into Senna’s shoulder, before settling her back down on her feet and taking off up the hill at a run.  Moments later, she has her glider and is soaring out over the bay.

 

Asami’s office is empty, the lights off, and her apartment as well. Korra glides over to the Sato estate, finally empty of all its guests; Mako’s family had already started the trek back to the Earth Kingdom, now a stable and safe home again.  Asami’s car is parked in the driveway, and Korra wanders through almost the entire mansion before catching a glimpse out a window to the backyard.

 

Asami sits in the grass, her back to Korra, staring at a stone memorial settled amid freshly overturned dirt.  Korra makes her way over, taking a set at her side, and they speak quietly, of Hiroshi, of Asami, but the last thing Asami says is “Can you stay here tonight?” and for the first time in years, Korra doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

 

Later, long after they’ve made their way to bed and to sleep, Korra wakes just before sunrise to Asami’s hand curled loosely around her wrist.  She stares across the bed at Asami’s messy hair and lack of makeup and the unusually relaxed look of her face as she sleeps.  The sunlight starts to creep more fully into the bedroom, and Asami eventually stirs and wakes and doesn’t let go of Korra’s wrist.

  
“You stayed,” she says, quiet and gravelly, and Korra smiles.  


End file.
